Page 51 of Shadow Caster
“Hounds have adapted to the mist,” Vince continued. “They roam in packs—huge fuckers with massive tear-you-the-fuck-to-shreds teeth. There are fucked-up mutant bugs and snakes. You got your biters too—humanoid critters that used to live on the other side but have built hives in the mist.” He sat back with his hands relaxed in his lap. “The farther you go, the worse it gets. And then you have the raids. The fomorian bastards have found a way to withstand the mist for short periods of time. They send parties coated in some kinda fomorian clay to try and knock out the AM posts. They want to end the mist so they can swarm us. It’s our job to keep the mist alive and to keep the number of threats in the mist to a minimum. We cull, we fix, we plant, and while out there, we’re under constant threat.” He took a deep breath and scanned our faces. His gaze locked on me for a long beat before moving on to Harmon. “Yeah, it’s dangerous. Yeah, you might die. But fuck, you could get hit by a night bus crossing the street in the human realm and have had your life amount to squat. Here you get a chance to matter. Here death means something.”
“If anyone can do this, you can. You were born stronger and faster with this purpose in mind. Regular supernaturals and humans would die beyond the mist. But your fomorian heritage allows you to thrive on both sides of the mist.”
One of the cadets raised his hand.
“What?” Vince asked impatiently.
“If the mist can hurt fomorians, surely it should hurt us too?” the cadet pointed out.
Good point.
Vince grinned. “That’s where that fucker Winterlock did his genius shit. The particles in the mist target and bond to aspects of fomorian DNA not found in shadow knights. They attack the fomorians on a genetic level. Incapacitate and kill them.” He looked out the window again. “This sector will be your home for your first year. You’ll take shifts in the barracks. You’ll patrol it, and you’ll make maintenance checks on the AM posts. Sector one is low threat, but it’s also the last line of defense, so if any shit does get this far, you need to be prepared to bring it the fuck down. Got me?”
There was a low murmur of assent. I nodded, my mouth working with the others.
“So, let’s kick off by getting you kitted out for the mist. The shit in the air disintegrates regular man-made fabric, so when out there, we wear Winterlock forged armor.”
He stood and stretched his stocky form. “Come on then. Let’s get ya fitted.” He clomped off to the other end of the room and through a door.
There were dazed expressions, contemplative ones, and plain shocked ones—he’d just thrown a bunch of intel at us and not even allowed us to blink an eye before moving swiftly on. For a long beat, no one moved.
Fuck it. I pushed back my chair and stood. “I, for one, am ready to see what all the fuss is about.” I strode after Vince, and the scrape of chairs being pushed back followed me.
* * *
Hyde was waitingin the armor room. It had to be the armor room because there was a shed load of silver metallic breast plates and shoulder pieces hanging on hooks. A poster of a man wearing armor was pasted to the wall with neat labels identifying the different parts. There was a large wooden chest pushed up against the wall to the far left, and another wall was taken up by what looked like a huge wardrobe, except the handle was at the center of the unit toward the ground. It would have to open upward.
“Large, medium, small,” Vince said, indicating the armor.
He frowned when his attention fell on me. “You might be a problem.” He walked over to one of the pegs and grabbed a breast plate. He looked at me, and the breast plate, and nodded. “Should work.”
“The chest over there contains skins,” Hyde said. “One size fits all. You’ll wear those under the armor.”
Vince tapped the poster. “Use the guide and suit up.”
The others around me were already busy stripping. I caught naked torsos and tight butts encased in boxers and then one or two glances were thrown my way.
“You gonna strip, Justice?” a cadet whose name I didn’t know asked with a grin.
“Fuck off, Mal,” Harmon growled, stepping in between the two of us.
“You boning her too, Harmon?” Mal asked with a sneer. “She’s part of the team now, so surely we should all get a go?”
Harmon’s hand curled into a fist, but like hell was I going to let him have the satisfaction. I stepped around him and planted my fist in Mal’s face.
The cadet staggered back under the force of the blow. “Bitch.” He leapt up and lunged but never made it, because Thomas had him in a headlock.
Hyde finally stepped forward. “Enough.”
Heads jerked his way. Fuck, I’d forgotten he was in the room. Vince too. Neither had made a sound during the short altercation.
Thomas released Mal, and the guys glared at each other, chests heaving. This one was going to be trouble. Carlo’s warning filled my mind. I raked my gaze over the others. To be fair, most of them were looking daggers at Mal, and the rest just looked uncomfortable. Not all arseholes then.
“Bleedin’ hell,” Vince said. “You fuckers need to sort your shit out.”
He advanced on Mal, but I didn’t get to see what happened next because Hyde was steering me out of the room and into the corridor beyond. He shoved open the door to what looked like a broom closet and pushed me in.
“You can change in here,” he said.
